


Missing Words

by Violet_Witch



Category: Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Denial, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, but they'll get there, kon dies breifly but he comes back, panic attack tw, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Witch/pseuds/Violet_Witch
Summary: Tim Drake is very good at compartmentalization. He simply doesn’t have the time to juggle his own personal feelings and get his job done at the same time, so it’s really just better for everyone if he keeps said feelings under lock and key. It makes him a ruthless detective, and occasionally a shitty friend, but mostly it saves him from the kind of grief that would have buried him six feet under long ago if he let it.Maybe that’s callus and if he ever manages to get a therapist who isn’t a supervillain, they might venture to call it denial, but Tim’s a survivor, and this is the cost of it.AKA It takes Tim years to realize what's always been there.





	Missing Words

**Author's Note:**

> Panic Attack TW in case you didn't read the tags. Read responsibly, loves.

The first time Tim notices how attractive Kon is, he’s fifteen and pretty sure he’s about to die.

It’s only their third mission as a team (so much for third time’s the charm) and it was supposed to be recon, but that had only lasted about five minutes before the tunnel they’d been walking through collapsed. Go figure.

When Tim comes to again, it’s to the sound of Kon’s frantic voice. “Tim! Are you okay?”

If he wasn’t still catching his breath and probably concussed from hitting his head too hard when he fell, Tim would have reprimanded him for using real names in the field. As it is, all he can do is peel his eyelids open and mutter a rasping, “ _Fine._ ” Kon’s straddling Tim’s hips with one hand braced on either side of Tim’s head. The closeness would probably be embarrassing if Tim had the brain power available to care.

From the way Kon’s biting his lip, Tim knows he doesn’t believe him. “Hold on, I can get us out of here—”

“No!” It probably comes out a little louder than necessary, but Tim doesn’t have time to worry about that because he’s a little distracted by trying to force his words out in a logical order. “The tunnels collapsed because the… the, uh… goddammit, what’s the word? The explody thingys?“

Kon is looking at him with increasing concern, but he tentatively offers, “Landmines?”

“Yes! Those. We set them off and they collapsed this section of the tunnel, but if you go shifting around rubble we might set off more. We could make our situation worse or end up burying the rest of the team.”

“Well then what do you suggest we do?”

Why is he making Tim think so much? It’s just cruel. “The rest of the team is still out there. If we stay put, they’ll find us, and dig us out.”

“And until then what are we supposed to do, just wait?” Kon asks shrilly.

“Yes.” Tim shivers. “Why is it suddenly so cold?”

Kon still looks annoyed, but it shifts to concern at Tim’s question. “The collapse probably compromised the tunnel’s insulation. The surface was only fifteen degrees when we got here and the sun was setting so it’s probably going to drop below zero soon.”

Oh. It occurs to Tim with mild indifference that he might not survive this. It could take the team hours to locate them and find a safe way to get them out. Of course, that’s not a problem for Kon, what with being half Kryptonian and everything, but for Tim’s mere human body… 

“You’re going to be okay until they find us, right?” Kon asks almost desperately.

“Of course. My suit has a built in heater—” it doesn’t, ”—and hypothermia won’t set in for hours.” More like less than one.

The lie comes to his lips as easily as Kon believes it. After all, there’s no reason to unnecessarily panic Kon, and assuming they both somehow survive this, he’d rather Kon not think of him as weak.

Minutes pass between them in silence. Tim can feel his eyes starting to drift closed again, the pull of sleep beckoning him like an old friend. It would be so easy to just, let go… 

“So, what’s your favorite color?”

“My _what?_ ”

“Your favorite color. Mine’s red.”

Tim squints up at Kon uncertainly. “Mine too I guess. Why?”

Kon does his best to shrug without dislodging the rubble. “Just making conversation. Ever had a pet?”

“Uh, no.”

“Got a favorite book?”

“I don’t really read all that much.”

“Hobbies?”

Tim starts to answer in the negative, but falters.

“You do have a hobby!” Kon grins down at him triumphantly. “I knew you were human under that under all that leather.”

”It’s kevlar!”

Kon ignores Tim’s protest. “So what is it?”

“I don’t really talk about it,” Tim says evasively, trying to determine if the blood rushing to his cheeks is because of the dropping temperature or their conversation.

“Does that mean it’s super embarrassing? Do you like, collect postage stamps or something?”

“ _That’s_ your idea of an embarrassing hobby?”

“Well, you’re not giving me a whole lot to work with here,” Kon huffs. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to just assume the worst.”

“If the worst is collecting postage stamps, that’s not a strong incentive.”

“ _Tim,_ come on. Just tell me. _Please?_ I promise I can keep it a secret.”

Tim stays silent for a long moment, trying to weigh the pros and cons of just telling Kon, but the puppy dog look in Kon’s eyes keeps distracting him. “Fine. I do photography.”

“Photography! That’s not so bad. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

It’s an easy enough question to dodge, but in for a penny out for a pound right? “Because my favorite models were Batman and Robin.”

“Like cosplayers?”

Tim smirks. “Not exactly.”

“You don’t mean—no way! I thought there _weren’t_ any pictures of Batman.” The awe in Kon’s voice is enough to keep Tim talking.

“I own some of the only ones in the world. I used to follow B and Dick around on patrol, it’s actually how I figured out Batman’s identity.”

“Dude!” Kon did some quick mental math, eyes widening impossibly further. “You would have been like, what, nine?”

“Yeah.” A smug smile curls at Tim’s lips and without thinking, he adds, “Jason was my favorite subject.” Alarm bells suddenly screech in Tim’s head. Is he Rubeus Hagrid? Because he _should not have said that._ He’s not supposed to talk about Jason. Whenever he does everyone always gets all tight lipped and quiet.

But Kon doesn’t even flinch. “Why’s that?”

Now that he thinks about it, Kon hasn’t ever treated him like Jason’s stand in. It’s probably just because he didn’t know the second Robin as well, but he doesn’t flinch when he looks at Tim or call him the wrong name, so he’s doing better than most.

Tim kind of really wants to hug him, but that’s probably the cold talking, so instead he answers truthfully. “Dick and Bruce were a challenge. They never stood still. Dick loved flying too much, and Bruce has always been too cautious to stand still and even when he did, he hid in the shadows where it was impossible to get a good shot. Jason though… Jason loved Gotham and sometimes he liked to just stop and _look_. I wouldn’t call it easy exactly, but I was able to get a lot of shots of him just standing on the edge of buildings, silhouetted against the city.” By the end, Tim’s voice is slurring.

“Sounds… peaceful,” Kon says after a beat of silence.

Tim smiles. “The in between moments always are.”

He’s not shivering anymore. In fact, he’s feeling rather warm.

“Tim? Are you still feeling okay?”

Kon’s eyes are wide with worry and he’s biting his lip again. It makes Tim’s fingers itch for his camera for the first time since he’d hung it up for a cape and boots. The pale green light from Tim’s glow stick flushes Kon’s skin an unearthly color and his dark hair is just barely falling in his face. He looks ethereal. More alien than Tim has ever seen him, but more beautiful too.

His mouth is moving again, his gorgeous eyes going even wider, but Tim can’t hear the words and his own eyes are falling shut again. He’s smiling when the world goes dark. _Maybe it’s not such a bad last sight…_

The next time he wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed and Kon is by his side, fast asleep in the visitor’s chair with his hand laying on the bed like he might have been holding Tim’s.

He looks beautiful then too, but Tim chalks it up to all the drugs he’s probably on and goes back to sleep.

***

He’s sixteen and Cassie doesn’t even pause when he opens the door before walking past him and into the room.

“He’s just so… ugh!” Cassie feints dramatically backwards onto Tim’s bed in Titan Tower, throwing an arm over her face.

“Well hello to you too,” Tim responds sarcastically, closing the door behind her.

“I want to lick his abbs. Is that normal?”

Tim can’t really say if that’s normal or not. He has no frame of reference and not near enough pertinent data to answer her question, so he elects to remain silent instead, calmly sitting down at his desk and figuring it’s safest to let her get it all out of her system.

“His hair is so dark and soft looking—and his muscles! Don’t get me started. That guy has the physique of a god. I should know.” Tim takes a moment to mentally review several questions about the extent of her experience with the greek pantheon before dismissing all of them. Not the time. Maybe later though. “And his eyes! I don’t even know how to describe them. They’re just so…”

Tim waits patiently while she fishes around for the right turn of phrase, but when all she comes up with is a frustrated sigh, he figures he might as well give her a hand. Only to speed things along, of course. “They’re like the sky over a desert. A clear blue that’s hiding stars and supernovas, galaxies and black holes. It’s like the whole universe is in his eyes if you just look hard enough. His eyes… they aren’t just _windows_ to his soul, they’re an open invitation.”

Tim’s surprised to find himself almost breathless just from those short sentences. He’s losing himself in the memory of Kon’s eyes locking onto his in the middle of battle, plans passing between them in the space of a heartbeat, movements terrifyingly in sync. And perhaps even more, the way Kon could convey a lifetime’s worth of fondness just by looking at him. It makes Kon a shitty liar where Tim’s concerned, but a hell of a friend.

He blinks himself out of those memories, glancing over to see Cassie propping herself up on her elbows to stare at him with wide eyes, eyebrows nearly brushing her hairline.

“What?”

Shaking her head, Cassie lets herself fall back onto the bed. “Nothing.”

She doesn’t say anything else, until eventually Tim pulls out his laptop and starts working on a case. He doesn’t think about the conversation again.

***

He just turned seventeen, and Steph broke up with him.

In hindsight, he should have seen that one coming. He wasn’t exactly boyfriend of the year. Or even the month. She deserved better anyway, someone who can love her in the ways that Tim just can’t. The two of them are better off as friends.

Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t be sad about it. He’s heart broken! Sort of. Mostly. He wants to be?

He definitely feels some sort of loss. Kind of like when you snuggle up under a warm blanket and you’re oh so comfortable, but then you start to overheat and it starts to feel hot and oppressive, but you’re still content so you don’t move. It’s not the blanket’s fault. It’s not even your fault. But when someone rips away the blanket, the cool air is a relief.

Tim’s career as a poet is coming along _great,_ why do you ask?

On the brightside, having his long term girlfriend break up with him entitles Tim to let loose a little. Or, that’s what Cassie and Bart keep insisting anyway.

They decided (notably sans any input from Tim) that throwing an actual party was a little too callus to Steph, so they settled on dragging Tim away from the computer to come play party games with them and Kon. Tim won monopoly twice, charades thrice (with Kon’s help, of course), lost never have I ever (“I don’t think we’re supposed to be playing with poker chips--” “When did you use a _flamethrower,_ on a _pinata?_ And how did _you_ know to ask that?!”) and did his best to gracefully opt out of truth or dare. That last endeavor was his greatest failure of the night.

He thought Dick would be rather proud of how close his batarang was to the bullseye considering he threw it upside down while doing a handstand. Three guesses as to who’s dare _that_ was.

To no one’s surprise but their own, Cassie and Bart were the first to pass out. To their credit, they both made it until 4 am, but Tim could set the world record for functioning without sleep and Kon got a cat nap in around midnight.

Tim’s eyes are just starting to droop when Kon comes back from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He wordlessly hands the cup to Tim, lips twisting up at the sight of Cassie and Bart both passed out and partially draped over Tim. Leaning over the back of the couch, he whispers in a low voice that sends shivers down Tim’s spine. “So, you’re a bachelor now. What are you going to do with all that free time?“

Tim lets his head fall back so he's looking straight up at Kon. “Dunno. Commit great acts of debauchery I guess.”

Kon’s answering laugh is little more than a hard exhale, but there’s a smile curling at his lips. “Oh so suddenly you’re a ladies man?”

“Excuse you, I’ve always been a ladies man.” The banter comes easier than air, despite the growing lump in Tim’s throat. “You just haven’t noticed because I know how to be professional.” He doesn’t _say_ ‘unlike some people’, but Kon can read it in his smirk.

Kon raises his eyebrows. “I can be professional.”

Tim grins in reply, lopsided and still edged with sleep. “If Cassie were awake right now, she’d totally back me up.”

“Cassie flirted with me first!”

“Whatever you say buddy.”

Kon just shakes his head, smiling faintly.

Counting back, Tim’s pretty sure he hasn’t slept in nerely 36 hours. Despite his high tolerance for sleep deprivation, it’s been a stressful couple of days and his eyelashes feel like lead, but Kon’s still staring at him with that soft grin and those eyes that are way too open and Tim can’t let himself close his eyes. Not when it’s so much more interesting to memorize how the soft light sneaking in from the window casts a halo around Kon’s hair and makes his skin glow bronze.

“Tim… ” he’s never really thought about how much he loves hearing Kon say his name—his real name, not Robin, or Red Robin, or any of those other names that are Tim-but-not-Tim—until that moment. The syllable seems to come so easily to Kon, handled with such care and such infrequency that Tim can’t help but treasure every time he hears it.

Kon’s eyes move across Tim’s face, searching for something, or maybe memorizing, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of finishing the sentence.

Tim’s fine with that. He doesn’t need Kon to speak, he just wants to stay in this moment forever.

But I’m the end, his body fails him before Kon’s concentration breaks, and he loses the battle to keep his eyes open.

That’s okay. Kon will be there in the morning (afternoon?) when Tim wakes up. In fact, Kon will be there for the rest of his life. Tim wants Kon to be there for the rest of his life.

Friends forever.

Friends.

He’s not sure why, but in the moments just before sleep, that word suddenly doesn’t feel quite right.

***

Tim’s still seventeen, but he might as well have lived lifetimes for all the grief pressing down on him.

His dad’s gone. Bart’s gone. Kon’s gone. Bruce is gone.

Everyone he loves (love _s_ not lov _ed,_ he refuses to think of them in the past tense) is just… gone.

And those who are left, well… 

_“My entire life has burnt down! I don’t call this okay Dick.”_

_“You have to understand—”_

_“No I don’t. This is all I **have** now.”_

_“He’s **gone** Tim, you have to accept it.”_

No. He doesn’t—refuses to. He’s going to bring them back, even if he has to fight the whole world to do it. He’s prepared to do what he has to.

Whatever it takes to see them again.

To see Kon again.

Tim has to see Kon again. This can’t be how they end. Not when he hasn’t told Kon that he—

That he—

Well, Tim’s not sure what he’s going to tell Kon. But the words have been weighing on his soul for longer than Kon’s been gone, and now they’re choking him.

So once he finds Bruce, and balance is restored, he’s going to bring Kon back too.

Even if it means selling his soul.

***

Tim’s seventeen or eighteen (what day is it again?) and Kon is back.

Kon’s _alive._

Tim’s _hugging_ him.

“Tim, buddy? You still with me?” That’s Kon’s voice. Not a recording. Not a hazy dream that leaves Tim with wet cheeks and a hollow chest, but his actual voice.

By the time he’s done savouring the feel of Kon’s body against his (lies, he’ll never get over that feeling) his voice comes out as little more than a hoarse croak. “You’re alive.”

Kon sighs softly, finally settling his own arms around Tim and enveloping the smaller boy. “Yeah, I’m alive.”

“I didn’t watch Wendy the Werewolf Stalker without you,” Tim blurts, “so we’re both a season behind.”

Kon’s laughter vibrates through Tim’s body. “Guess we’ll have to make that up some time.”

“Yeah.” It physically pains him, but Tim pulls away. Every lost point of contact feels like losing Kon all over again, but he figures he’s probably already pushing his luck with the two minute long hug. He pulls back his cowl, feeling oddly naked with it pooled around his shoulders. “I’m… I’m really glad you’re back Kon.”

And there’s the smile Tim had been dreaming about for a year stretching across Kon’s lips and softening his eyes. “Me too.”

His throat is clogged with those damn words again, and even after so long choking on them, Tim’s not sure what they are. Can’t force them up. He doesn’t realize he’s frowning until Kon reaches out and presses the spot where Tim’s eyebrows are scrunched up with his thumb.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Tim knocks his hand away, but he can’t quite summon his normal irritation. “Am not.”

“Seriously though, what’s bothering you?”

Kon’s hand is still floating somewhere over Tim’s shoulder, almost as if he wants to touch Tim just as much as Tim wants to be touched. They both need that physical reassurance, and they’re both too stubborn to admit it. Well, maybe Tim’s tired of being stubborn and lonely. Maybe it’s time to be reckless.

He gently takes Kon’s hand, holding it like it’s made of glass that could shatter at any moment. “You were dead. And now you’re not. And I… ” Tim huffs, frustrated with his own inability to articulate how he feels. “While you were gone I just kept thinking that it all happened so suddenly and I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I… ”

Tim feels more than hears Kon’s breath catch, his whole body leaning almost imperceptibly towards him. He’s staring down at Kon’s hand in his, still frowning, but the words aren’t _there_. He found the space in his head where they should be, but it’s just a gaping hole.

Finally Kon let’s out the breath he’d been holding. “You don’t have to say it.” Despite the reassurance, Kon sounds resigned and that more than anything is what makes Tim look up.

Kon’s smiling down at him with eyes that are just as easy to read as always. Friendship, care, concern, fondness, and something… sadder. Love.

Time to be reckless.

Tim takes a step closer, the proximity forcing him to tilt his head back in order to keep eye contact but also bringing everything into sharp relief. Kon is gorgeous like this. Bright blue eyes fixed solely on Tim, reflecting starlight with open affection.

Kon’s hands settle on Tim’s waist, not pushing or pulling, just resting there. _This,_ Tim thinks as he pulls off his gloves and brushes a feather light touch over Kon’s jaw, _is what home feels like._

“You’re beautiful.” Tim gasps softly in recognition. Those are _his_ words. The ones that have been stuck in his throat for _years_. Except, they come out of Kon’s mouth.

Tim’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “I have helmet hair.”

Kon chuckles. “So?”

Instead of contesting _that_ ironclad argument, Tim kisses him.

Emotions might not be Tim’s strong suit, but kissing, he can do.

Kon’s lips are soft, if a little dry from windburn, and pliant, silently urging Tim on, so he wraps his arms around Kon’s neck and buries his fingers on his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. Kon leans down, grip tightening on Tim’s waist as he pulls the smaller even closer, pressing their bodies together from navel to forehead.

It’s desperate, but slow and definitely sweeter than Tim imagined it would be (and he’s shocked to realize he _has_ imagined this).

Kon carefully presses his tongue to the seal of Tim’s mouth and if it weren’t for how closely their bodies are intertwined, Tim’s knees probably would have given out on him right then and there. He enthusiastically deepens the kiss.

Kissing Kon feels like coming home, except that doesn’t make any sense because before this moment Tim didn’t even know he _wanted_ to kiss Kon and that gaping hole that just moments before had been an empty chasm of empty words is suddenly _singing._ It’s song thrumbs through Tim’s body, washing his veins with warmth and sunlight in the way only Kon can do. _I love you, I love you, I love—_

Tim breaks off the kiss. “Holy shit.”

Kon’s doesn’t even open his eyes, just sucks in ragged breaths and agrees, “Holy shit.” Tim doesn’t think they mean the same thing at all.

The next moment Tim is wrenching out of Kon’s grasp and stumbling backwards like the floor’s about to fall out from beneath him.

He always knew he cared for Kon a lot, but _love?_ As in _romantic-slash-sexual-slash-shove-my-tongue-down-your-throat_ love? That can’t be right. Tim would have already known. Besides, he’s straight.

Oh my god, is he gay? This really doesn’t seem like the time to be having a sexuality crisis. (Besides, he’d definitely liked Steph, so he’s probably bi—pan— _queer?_ he needs to do more research) Although the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he’s skipped right over bicurious, and straight (ha) into googling which states have legalized gay marriage.

Not that Tim is thinking about marrying Kon! God no. It’s way too early for that.

Wait no—he doesn’t like Kon like that in the first place! He’s bad at emotions, not an idiot. Besides, being in love with your best friend (allegedly) is the kind of thing you notice! Right?

Hypothetically, if Tim were in love with Kon, would he have acted any differently over the years? Kon certainly takes up the lion’s share of Tim’s thoughts (second only to Bruce, but that’s different) and now that he thinks about it, he’s never really managed to categorize Kon as his brother. Not like he does Dick and Jason. (He refuses to add the demon brat to that list until they can be in the same room without trying to murder one another)

Tim’s pacing now, his mind racing to try and puzzle out years of repressed feelings while Kon just stares blankly at the empty space where Tim was in his arms moments ago.

Don’t even get Tim started on the implications of being in a relationship with Kon! Not that they are in or are going to be in a relationship of course. One kiss hardly makes them boyfriends. And it was one kiss! Tim really missed Kon and his body probably just equated that to the need to be physically close to Kon in any way possible. And Kon was _dead_ for a _year._ No matter what the psych evals said, there’s really no telling what that could have done to his head.

“Tim.”

Even if he and Kon do start a relationship—not that they’re going to!—what would Bruce say? If he didn’t even like metas being _in_ Gotham, what would he think of Tim _dating_ one? Can they even have sex? What if Kon accidentally crushes him or lazer visions the bed or something?

“Tim!”

Okay that last one doesn’t make sense and definitely isn’t something Tim should be picturing, (Lois Lane is proof to the contrary anyway) but what if it hurt the team? Red Robin hasn’t really been working with the Teen Titans a whole lot recently, but that doesn’t mean he’s never going back. He’s not sure he can give up working with Kon and a relationship could limit their effectiveness in the feild—hell it could screw up their entire friendship!

” _Tim!_ ”

Tim’s head snaps to the source of his name, eyes wide. Kon stares back, his expression carefully controlled. It doesn’t hide much from Tim though, he can still read the concern in every line of Kon’s body. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—“ _Is_ he okay? The immediate and definite answer is no. But somehow telling Kon that doesn’t seem like a good idea, so instead Tim chokes out, “Fine. I’m fine.”

If his raised eyebrow is anything to go by, Kon clearly doesn’t believe him. “Really? ‘Cause, you kind of freaked out.”

“What? Me?” Tim makes an awkward scoffing noise in the back of his throat that makes them both wince. “ _Please._ I don’t ‘freak out’.”

“Tim.” It’s actually kind of impressive how Kon manages to sound exasperated, fond, and disbelieving all with one word.

Tim needs to get out of here. Now. Before Kon tries to _talk_ about what just happened and the growing panic in Tim’s veins makes him say something stupid.

“Sorry,” he blurts, because that seems like a good place to start. “That was weird, right?” He laughs nervously, answering his own question, “Yeah really weird. I should probably go now and we can just forget this whole thing happened.”

He turns to leave, already pulling his grapple out when Kon’s hand suddenly wraps around his elbow. “Wait!”

Tim glances back, but doesn’t let himself turn. “Yeah?”

Kon swallows and waits until Tim meets his eyes. “What if I don’t want to forget?”

Well doesn’t that just screw up all the mental math Tim’s done so far. He hadn’t even factored in how _Kon_ felt about _him._ He’d just assumed the half kryptonian didn’t like him like that. For one thing, everyone Kon had ever dated had been a) a girl and b) powerful. Liking Tim seems like a huge step down after Cassie and M’gann. And even if it weren’t for Kon’s past relationships, he himself was way out of Tim’s league. Charming, attractive, playful… There are whole websites dedicated to girls who want to date Kon.

Next to that Tim feels… small. He’s not relationship material in the best of times, and Kon is too good to get corrupted by Tim’s darkness like that. So it doesn’t matter if Kon likes him back. No matter how much Tim really _really_ wants it to.

Even if Tim can’t stop thinking about how Kon’s fingers had curled into his waist, pulling him closer almost posessively. Even though all he wants is to run back into Kon’s arms until the panic fades.

He can’t though. Not now, and maybe not ever again. He carefully removes Kon’s hand from his elbow, not daring to let their eyes meet for fear of what he might find there. “Trust me, it’s better if we do.”

Kon doesn’t stop him this time.

***

Tim goes home and has a mild panic attack.

He’s barely pulled his suit off when breathing suddenly becomes a laborious task and his heart thunders like horses in the Wild West.

He. Can’t. Stop. _Thinking._

Half formed ideas and fully formed thoughts that are somehow worse chase each other around in his head until his train of thought has become little more than a semi-truck on the freeway with broken brakes. Everytime he starts to get a grasp on a firm line of thinking, it stops, restarts, and circles back on itself. He’s not coming up with any new ideas, just rehashing old ones in ways that make the pressure on his chest increasingly suffocating.

He’s alone in the cave so he stumbles towards the computer to seal the exits (soft seal. Bruce or Alfred could still walk in at any time with their override codes) and finds the music app with shaky fingers.

He picks a song at random—something catchy with a deep base that Dick probably put on there— and turns up the volume to just shy of shatter your ear drums. If he can’t escape the thoughts, then maybe he can drown them out.

His body can’t seem to choose between ‘curl up in a ball to sleep for the next several centuries’ and ‘run a marathon’ so instead he just paces. His shoulders are hunched nerely to his ears and his hands can’t stop fidgeting. One moment they’re dragging through his hair and the next they’re wringing together.

In that moment he just _feels_ so much. He’s still ecstatic just to have Kon back, and scared that he’ll lose him again—ten fold now that there’s this new and interesting way for Tim to fuck up their friendship. He’s angry at himself for bottling this up for so long and even angrier for not being able to control his response.

But mostly he’s just plain old panicked. The kind of blind fear that drives out logic and purges reason.

At this point there’s no denying it. Tim’s in love with Kon. There’s no other explanation for why a kiss would be affecting him like this.

So Tim paces, and he thinks, and he waits until his heart beat starts to slow down and he can breath in again without feeling like a drowning man, and when he finally makes it to the other side, there aren’t any feelings left. He’s just tired.

So Tim shuts off the music, unlocks the Cave, grabs a bottle of water, and goes to bed.

He drifts off to the thought of sky blue eyes that are always just barely out of reach.

***

“Wakey wakey.”

Tim hisses as someone throws open the curtains. “What the actual fuck.”

When he cracks his eyes open, squinting against the blinding light, Cassie is standing there, smiling down at him. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “I gave you twelve hours out of courtesy to our friendship, but it’s time to face reality.”

Twelve… how long was Tim asleep?

Cassie sighs. “You’re not going to be any use to me unless I get you coffee are you?” she mutters, leaving the room presumably to get some.

Tim tries to sit up, but his head swims so much he has to clutch the headboard just to remain upright. Twelve hours. He hasn’t slept that long in years. Fucking panic attacks.

Tim collapses back onto the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. God. He hasn’t had one that bad in years. He can still remember his first one… 

Shaking himself before he gets stuck in memories he’d rather not revisit, Tim takes another stab at sitting up and finds it a little easier this time. Tentatively, he stretches his arms over his head, yawning widely. His vision blacks out for a moment, and he sways even sitting down, but he still feels a little better.

Good enough to stand up, at least. By the time Cassie sweeps back into the room with two mugs, he’s pulled on a pair of sweats and a ratty old t-shirt that might have been Dick’s at some point. He counts himself lucky she didn’t try to pull back the covers when first waking him up.

“Good. You’re alive.” She shoves one of the mugs into his hands a little more roughly than necessary. “Now start talking before the urge to kill you overwhelms my already fraying impulse control.”

Tim takes the mug with less than half his usual grace and blinks once at her slowly. He considers asking her why she wants to kill him but decides to take a long drink from his coffee first. It’s black, just the way Tim likes it, so he can only guess Alfred had a hand in it.

When he lowers the mug he finally looks at Cassie.

Sure, her expression is pissed and her stance certainly looks like she’s ready to follow through on that threat, but under that she looks… anxious. And pitying. Tim looks away. “So you’re probably here about Kon.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

Tim’s lips twitch, but the guilt building in his chest is starting to build to a boiling point again. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did.” Cassie manages to stay angry for another few seconds before she cracks. “But you’re gonna tell me what happened, and we’re gonna fix it, okay?”

Tim can only imagine how he must look right now, smiling weakly at her while they both pretend his eyes aren’t shining silver. “Is he okay?”

Cassie’s never been one to sugar coat things, but she does know how to be tactful. She steers Tim back to the bed and sits him down, setting both their mugs on the bed side table and taking his hands in hers. “Not really. He came back to the tower last night freaking out and shut himself in his room. It took us hours just to get him to come out and… ” The guilt in Tim’s chest reaches a fever pitch and it must show on his face because Cassie frowns in annoyance. “And you need to cut it out. You _should_ feel guilty for leaving Kon like that, but guilt isn’t going to solve this, so come on. Tell me what happened.”

Tim nods shakely trying to school his thoughts into an order that makes sense. At length, he says, “I panicked. I’d never really thought of Kon that way, you know? And—”

Cassie snorts.

Frowning at her, Tim asks, “What?”

“ _You’ve never thought of Kon that way?_ Tim what the fuck? You’ve been cowl over pixie boots for him for years.” Cassie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Tim’s just… _what?_

“I’m confused.”

“Wait—you seriously didn’t know?”

“I… no? Kissing him was literally the first time I realized it?”

“Oh, Tim.” Now Cassie does look apologetic.

“How long have _you_ known?”

Cassie rolls her eyes. “Since _I_ was crushing on Kon and you practically wrote a sonnet about his eyes.”

“That wasn’t—I was just—“ Tim splutters but Cassie cuts him off with another one of those looks.

“Kon’s eyes are pretty and all, but they don’t _invite_ anyone else into his _soul._ ”

Tim blushes scarlet.

Deciding he’s had enough and anymore will probably make him clam up, Cassie let’s it drop. “Okay so I’m starting to get why you panicked, but you’ve had a few hours to process. How do you feel now?”

Tim thinks about it for a moment. He _knows_ the answer, but there’s a huge difference between _knowing_ and _saying._ Still. He’s going to have to face this eventually… 

“Like I fucked up.”

... just maybe not yet.

Cassie doesn’t push him to say more about that yet. Tim doesn’t want to think about how that’s probably because she already knows his real answer. “Okay, well, is there anything left to stop you from coming to the Tower with me right now and telling that to Kon?”

Tim bites his lip. He’s pretty damn clear on his feelings, and he’s pretty sure there’s no more doubting Kon’s. Still… “Could we even work? I’ve… I’ve changed a lot since he… and what if he doesn’t like the new me?”

“I’m pretty sure he liked you plenty when he tried to lick your tonsils last night,” Cassie says matter of factly.

Tim scowls at her. “Physical attraction and romantic compatibility aren’t the same.”

Cassie sighs, putting her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes dart between his and he wants to look away, to hide that small vulnerable part of himself that is still just a scared little kid, but he _can’t._

Finally, Cassie smiles. “You’ll never know until you give it a shot, right?”

Tim nods uncertainly. “Yeah.” It shouldn’t be a surprise when he realizes he wants this to work, but it is. He’s spent so much time thinking about the past and in his own head, he’s hardly thought about what the future could be like for them, but now all he can think about is what it would be like to date Kon. Warm touches and quiet dates, soft conversations at midnight and… actually, it wouldn’t be all that different from how they used to be before Kon died. But with more kissing. Lots more, hopefully.

Tim stands up, grabbing his coffee and downing it in one go. “We need to leave. Like right now.”

“Slow down hot shot,” she says with an amused smile. “Don’t you think you might want to, I don’t know, brush your teeth first?”

“Right. Right! I’ll just go—” Tim almost trips over his own feet in his backwards stumble towards the bathroom. “—do that.”

Cassie’s laughter follows him until the door swings shut behind him.

***

Cassie is kind enough to carry Tim to the Tower. Much faster than driving, but also a hell of a lot more embaressing.

When they touch down Cassie says, “Bart stayed with Kon to try and keep him calm and not drowning in his own misery. You really did a number on him.”

“Wow thanks, I feel so much better now,” Tim replies sarcastically.

“Oh just get in there lover boy.”

Tim glances at her one last time, hoping for some comfort. Cassie shoos him towards the door.

Well, looks like he’s on his own for this one. Probably better that way. He knocks.

There’s total silence for a moment and then the sound of loud voices, trying but failing to be quite and a short, violent scuffle, then suddenly Bart opens the door. “Tim! Good to see you. Probably. Actually, it might not be.” Bart’s smile twists into a frown. “Are you here to help or hurt?”

Tim supposes he deserves that. “Neither. I’m here to talk.” Bart squints at him suspiciously. “Look, I just want to fix this. Can I see him? Please?”

Bart scrutinizes him for another minute before coming to a decision. “Okay.” Then he vanishes, leaving the door open.

Tim takes a few deep breaths before knocking on the door frame. “Kon?”

Kon finally steps into view from where he was pressed against the wall next to the door. He looks tired, but just as gorgeous as ever. “Tim.”

Suddenly, he has no idea what to say. Where exactly should he start with this? He doesn’t think fast enough because Kon speaks first. “I think you made your feelings perfectly clear last night Tim, so whatever you’re gonna say, can we just get this over with?”

Tim hates how resigned he sounds, so he steps forward, reaching for Kon’s hand only for him to jerk it away. They both wince.

“Kon I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have run away. I freaked out and it wasn’t fair to you for me to leave without explaining myself.”

Kon scoffs. “Yeah.”

“I just, well you know I don’t handle feelings well and I’ve kind of been repressing my feelings for you for… years I think? And it all kind of hit me at once and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ran. Then I had a mild panic attack for a bit—not fun by the way, would not recommend—and I’m not sure if this is coming too little too late, but I love you Kon. Like a lot. Like, it scares me how in love with you I am and I know it’ll probably be really hard but I want to try and make us work. Also you should probably cut me off soon because I’m starting to ramble, and if you don’t say something I’m gonna have another panic attack—”

Kon does just that by taking Tim’s hand. He’s grinning from ear to ear and Tim’s never been so happy not to have a mask between them. “You love me?”

Tim can’t help but laugh softly, taking a small step closer. “Yeah. I really really do.”

“You know I’ve had several very crappy hours because of you,” Kon says almost loftily. “You’re going to have to make them up to me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Tim smiles.

Kon scrunches his nose up, pretending to think it over. “Kisses I think,” he finally announces. “Lots of them.”

“That can definitely be arranged,” Tim murmurs, rising up on his toes to press his lips to Kon’s.

Kon wraps his free arm around Tim’s waist and pulls him closer, even as he pulls out of the kiss. “I love you too.”

It’s the start of something beautiful.

“If you two are gonna bone, at least close the door!”

**Author's Note:**

> Am I projecting onto our favorite caffeine bird? The world may never know.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
